


No Tricks

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Bobby Singer, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Mob, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Omega Crowley (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21995062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Crowley is a powerful mob boss and has hidden his Omega status for his entire career.  When Singer and his boys roll into town, will that power be threatened?
Relationships: Crowley/Bobby Singer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60
Collections: SPN ABO Bingo Round 4, SPN Rare Ship Bingo 2019





	No Tricks

**Author's Note:**

> For my SPN Rare Ship Bingo card, the Bobby/Crowley square, my SPN ABO Bingo card, the Enemies to Lovers square, my As the Saying Goes Bingo card, the "The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach" square, and my SPN Genre Bingo card, the Free Space.

Being in charge of an entire mob wasn't easy. People were always angry, jobs were always going sideways, tough decisions always needed to be made.

Crowley would never admit that the life was hard, though. Never show weakness.

Most importantly, never let them know he was an Omega.

It had been hard, rising through the ranks with a secret like that. He'd had to kill a few guys on the job who'd found out, but he could always easily blame the deaths on the police, other mobs, or their own stupidity.

Now, nobody alive except his personal doctor, who prescribed his extremely strong suppressants, knew that the most powerful mob boss around was an Omega.

Things were fine – great, really – until Singer rolled into town. While Singer wasn't in charge of a large number of people like Crowley, Singer’s guys were efficient. He had the Angels, a biker gang who basically moved into one of the bars downtown, a squirrely guy named Garth as his right-hand man, and the Winchester Brothers, a duo who could never be pinned down for any of their crimes.

Crowley let Singer have a bit of fun for a few weeks, but when Singer's men beat out his own for a high-stakes jewelry heist, Crowley had had enough.

The first few guys he sent came back with snarky responses. The next two just didn't come back.

Finally, Crowley decided he needed to meet with Singer face-to-face, find a compromise before his temper overcame his patience.

He set the meet for a nice little Italian place, one whose manager Crowley practically owned. The restaurant closed for the afternoon, but Crowley made sure the kitchen was working, ordering one of everything, hoping to butter Singer up a bit. Even in a rough business like theirs, Crowley knew the way to any man's heart was through this stomach.

Crowley's guys let him know when Singer arrived, the Winchester brothers and their '67 Impala serving as Singer’s escort. They and Crowley's guys stayed outside, eyeing each other up, while Singer entered Crowley's temporary throne room alone.

The two men eyed one another from across the room, trying to decide the best way to approach their situation. Eventually Singer moved closer, approaching Crowley and the delicious food spread on the table between them.

As Singer neared, though, it wasn't the food that he started smelling. His inner Alpha was stirring, agitated. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but it only got worse.

“What're you playing at, Crowley?” Singer practically growled. “Bring me in for a meet, just to trick me with an Omega?”

Crowley frowned, smelling the air. He’d ensured that only a few kitchen staff were in the building, and they had all been Betas. His men outside were Alphas, as he assumed Singer’s men were as well. Omegas didn’t belong in their business.

“I don’t know what you’re hinting at, Singer,” Crowley replied, standing to show his control. Singer had a bit of height on him, but Crowley held himself with an air of power that he had perfected over the years. “There are no tricks here.”

Singer huffed, knowing that something was up. Ready to take Crowley in a one-on-one fight if he had to, he rounded the table to grab Crowley’s lapel.

It was only then that Crowley realized what the problem was. As Singer held him close, in a somewhat aggressive movement, his body heated up. Crowley took a tentative breath, smelling the Alpha musk wafting from Singer – gunpowder, cedar, and whiskey.

Crowley gulped. Singer’s eyes followed the movement of the Adam’s apple, squinting suspiciously. Then something clicked.

Singer leaned forward slightly, scenting Crowley’s neck. Crowley was embarrassed at the minor tilt of his head, his body submitting to the Alpha without his permission.

“You?” Singer questioned, his grip on Crowley’s suit loosening slightly. “Seriously?”

Crowley twisted himself out of Singer’s grip, straightening his jacket and smoothing away nonexistent dust. He mentally checked himself, noting that his body was showing potential signs of going into heat.

He hadn’t had a heat since he was a teenager – the suppressants were strong enough for that. They should stop all Omega traits from being noticeable to even the strongest Alpha. What was happening?

“I need to make a phone call,” Crowley said simply, not answering Singer’s question. Singer watched as Crowley stepped to the side of the room, dialing his doctor.

Deciding to give Crowley the benefit of the doubt, or maybe curious to see a future meltdown, Singer sat and pulled a plate of pasta toward himself and began to eat. It was delicious, and nearly enough to help him ignore the angry mumbling coming from Crowley on his phone across the room.

Until the mumbling turned to an angry yell. “What do you mean, _they won’t work_?” Singer looked over at Crowley and met his eyes, seeing a tinge of red on the man’s cheeks. Crowley turned away quickly, finishing his phone call and throwing it across the room.

Singer took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. Seeing that Crowley hadn’t moved, and was obviously upset about something, he sighed.

“So how long has it been, hiding it?” Singer asked. His voice was calmer now, and somewhat sympathetic. Crowley turned to him, knowing that the jig was up.

“Not long enough,” Crowley answered, coming back to the table. He sunk into his chair, pulling a dessert his way and taking a bite. Singer waited, knowing that Crowley would continue to talk when he wanted. “Doc says that no matter how strong the suppressants are, they don’t do a sodding thing if you’re in close proximity to your –“

Crowley stopped speaking, an awkward silence falling over them for a moment before he cleared his throat.

“Close to your Alpha?” Singer guessed, trying to stay even-keeled.

Crowley nodded.

They sat in silence for a few moments, eating their respective dishes. When Singer had had enough, he pushed the plate away, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, the name’s Bobby,” he offered, catching Crowley’s eye, “and I s’pose we should come up with somethin’, here, seeing as you and I are, ah, meant to be.”

Crowley stared at the man for a minute, shocked with the ease that Bobby spoke about such a personal subject. Maybe joining up with Bobby and his boys wouldn’t be such a bad thing – marry the opposition, if you will, instead of fighting.

Crowley nodded, holding his hand out toward Bobby. “Fergus.”

Bobby took his hand in both of his, squeezing it in a more intimate handshake than normal. It should have been weird, but somehow it felt just right.


End file.
